


Reminder

by Pieceofship



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age 2, Dragon Age Series - Fandom
Genre: Carver is a good boy who’s a complicated character and needs more love, I stan him, Mage!Hawke - Freeform, NOT INCEST YOU FREAKS, Siblings, Takes place during act 1, custom!Hawke, customfem!hawke, sibling relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:47:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23634064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pieceofship/pseuds/Pieceofship
Summary: “Damn it...”Carver’s eyes flicker open, vision temporary blurred by sleep but it takes but a few seconds to return to normal. He sits up, rubbing the crud out of his eyes and takes a moment to take in his surroundings.
Kudos: 3





	Reminder

“Damn it...”

Carver’s eyes flicker open, vision temporary blurred by sleep but it takes but a few seconds to return to normal. He sits up, rubbing the crud out of his eyes and takes a moment to take in his surroundings.

The first thing he notices is the ever-presence mysterious smell that lingers in Gamlen’s run-down house. No matter how many times they clean the scent clings to this house like sticky sap. The second thing he notices is how dark the room is... well darker than normal. It’s early, the cold morning air makes that apparent as do the goosebumps that coat his arms. The third thing he notices is his eldest sister Rosemary Hawke swearing under her breath a second time. 

He gets out of the lumpy and hard excuse for a bed and steps outside of the room. Sure enough, there she was. Hunched over the desk with a single candle for a source of light and a cracked mirror being what her big blue eyes were so focused on. Carver swears she isn’t blinking.

“Sister,” he says in a whisper as loud as he can manage without fear of waking up mother, Gamlen or the mabari war hound who slept on the floor.

She blinks, at last, turning her head away from the shattered mirror and towards him. “Carver?” 

It’s when he sees the hairbrush in one hand he gets an idea of what’s going on. He’s torn between frustration and sorrow, his mind is invaded with flashbacks of her and Bethany. Being not only girls but mages, they were not just siblings but the closest of friends. And where was he in all that? His father tending to his sisters and their magical capabilities while he was pushed to the side... But on the other hand, he recalls the days where their hiding places were full of girlish laughter as the two gossiped and Bethany would play with her hair. It became his sister's signature style, like Isabela with her flashy jewelry or Anders with those ridiculous robes with all those feathers. 

“Maker’s breath, do you know what time it is?” Carver scowls. 

“I’m sorry, I just couldn’t sleep.” she apologized, letting out a sigh.

“Well get back to bed, if you wake Gamlen up we never hear the end of it.”

“I know... just give me a second.” 

He watched as her fingers grab a small section of her mousey brown hair she inherited from their father. From there she tried to braid it... it’s almost sad at how bad she is at it. She never had the dexterity for these kinds of things, she never would have made it as a rogue. Hence why they left the lock picking to Varric and Isabela.

Carver holds back a defeated sigh, he can’t watch this any longer. One, because it just looks pathetic to see a grown woman struggle with something as mundane as braids. And two, it just reminded him too much of what once was. It’s been well over a year and he still expects to hear the childish laughter and chatting every morning of his two sisters. 

He swears under his breath as he makes his way over and pulls up a chair. 

“For the love of...here.” he takes the brush out of her hands.

He gives brushes a few sections, her hair is greasy from the lack of washing. Water can only do so much and they can only afford a bit of soap, most of that goes towards keeping their clothes somewhat clean.

He has seen Bethany do this a thousand times each morning like clockwork. First, Carver parted the front of her hair into four small sections, two on each side. Then he braided each of the sections, starting with the two thin braids that framed the face. While his hands are calloused he manages to neatly braid them, creating two braids that frame his sister’s face. A bit uneven in terms of height, but it was close enough.

Next up, he braids the last two sections. He brings the two newly formed braids up and around the sides of her head on each side, tying the ends together so they stayed in place. It’s not exactly how Bethany used to do them, but it’s close enough.

She turns to face him, a pleased yet tired smile forms on her lips. “Thank you...” his sister whispered.

The wear and tear of living in Kirkwall show, the lack of hygiene from how little they can afford, her hands were always a little calloused but spending a year as a mercenary takes it to a whole new level. Carver can practically feel the anxiety oozing out of her whenever they walk past a Templar or the gallows. 

“Just get some sleep.,” he says, turning his back and going back to what little comfort his so-called bed has.

There are times he hates her when he’s reminded the memories of his childhood were always their father with her and Bethany, cursed with not one but two children who had the so-called gift of magic. And him? Cast off to the side while his father tended to his sisters.

This was not one of those times. His mind is a fickle one as much as he hates to admit it. For all those times he hates her he’s reminded Bethany is no longer with them. He’s reminded all those times only he could make Bethany smile with his silly little jig, when Fenris makes his usual remark about his feelings towards mages and his first instinct is to ensure his sister is okay, when she teases him about his infatuation with Merrill and in return he pokes fun at how hopelessly smitten she is with Isabela. 

Carver drags himself to the bed and tries to get what little warmth he can out of the thin and moth-eaten blankets. His eyes grow heavy with sleep and exhaustion almost instantly and before Carver knows it he is asleep.


End file.
